Of Pureblood Culture, Rules and Transgressions
by Gannet
Summary: Lucius confesses to having a dirty secret... One that had heavy consequences on his life!


Of Pureblood culture, standards and code transgressions

Being a wealthy Pureblood had many advantages, that much is true. People are thoroughly intimidated by pimp canes, blond hair, and sacks of Galleons discreetly handed over – intimidated enough to furnish one with a nice, comfortable cell in Azkhaban, complete with House-Elves, or even to agree with the fact that one had been under Imperio during the entire pre-Azkaban period. People were more than willing to forget one's arrogance, racism and even lack of taste – a silver-serpent-headed cane, for Merlin's sake! What were the film's wardrobe masters thinking of, I wonder? I am of course not opposed to carrying phallic symbols around, but is it really necessary to make them all that obvious?

However, people do have an annoying tendency to i expect /i one to act in certain pre-determined ways. To obey some standards of behaviour and attitude. Granted, some eccentricities are allowed, even welcomed. One is pre-scheduled to be picky with one's food, to rape one's son under one's wife very nose, or to get an archive dedicated specifically to one's family in Sycophant Hex, to name but a few examples. And yet – there are some things it is just impossible for one to accomplish, for fear of losing most of one's prestige, and, together with it, one's fangirl mob, or one's ability to survive a war unscathed after openly supporting the losing party for, well, about all of it.

I know what you are thinking. If peodophilic slashy incest is possible, there are no bounds to what one may do… How little, may I ask, do you actually know about wizarding customs?

I beg you pardon?

You 'read the books'? Oh my. The books, indeed. Seen the films as well, I presume?

And where, exactly, did the books and films broach the subject of Scottish folk music?

Nowhere?

Ha. I told you so, did I not? You don't know a thing about it being customary for wealthy Purebloods to listen to Scottish folk music.

There is in fact a good reason for your ignorance – wealthy Purebloods are most certainly not meant to listen to Scottish folk music. Wealthy Purebloods sometimes stoop as low as to tolerate some Bach cantatas, provided it occurs during a private concert with authentic 17th century instruments and first-class refreshments. Wealthy Purebloods most certainly do not stomp around to the sound of bagpipes.

Well, as much as it shames me to confess this, I do own up to this last excess. I often wonder why I of all people am plagued with such an affliction, when I could have remained on the straight and narrow path of Pureblood etiquette – kissing Dark Lord robes, torturing Muggles, sharing vintage brandy with a select few, or other similar widely approved occupations. But the fact is – I cannot contain my propensities any more.

I have tried to conform to Pureblood standards, that much is true. Before Azkhaban I only indulged every year or so, taking advantage of some "business trip" or other… Then of course, while in jail, I had to stop altogether.

Do you have a vice of your own? Something deep, dark, and secret you wish no one ever knows about, yet something that grows stronger within you every time you try to crush it? Do you know the feeling of helplessness, the terrible realisation that you have to give in, that you will indeed give in, that every attempt at stalling will only make the backlash stronger?

You must have guessed by now. Shortly after the fall of Voldemort, and my subsequent acquittal and removal from Azkhaban, I was foolish enough to think the rest of the wizarding world would be too preoccupied by celebration to notice one blonde Pureblood wandering into a shabby little pub in Inverness.

I was wrong, of course. The frizzy-haired Mud-ggleborn was there, 'escaping from the dunderheads' as she later confided in me. She happens to share my propensity to dance to the sound of fiddles and gaelic, you see – you can tell someone has Muggle parentage from their willingness to confess their squalid musical preferences.

But, believe me or not, I fell totally in love with her when she explained how one may capture those delightful sounds on seedies – little, flat, shiny round things - and listen to them in the peace of one's own home, within the privacy of numerous locking and silencing spells. In the privacy of one's own home, where there is no need to s Avada /s Obliviate annoying witnesses to the double salto one unwittingly committed while attempting a jig.

You probably know the rest from the Prophet's titles, or at least the outline of what really happened. Narcissa discovered the seedy eclectic machine and some of the seedies I had hidden in the secret cabinet – the woman apparently thought I was concealing some dead enemy skulls there from the frequent sojourns I made in that room. I do not object to being compared to Hamlet, but a twenty-year marriage to a Malfoy really should have taught her that we keep our dead enemies in the left-wing part of the dungeons – the right-wing being reserved to living enemies, as you may well know. The central wing is of course nothing else than a wine cellar - one really cannot be bothered to wait for the House-Elf to come back from the other side of the Manor when one wants a Chablis.

But I digress. For the sake of our child, she agreed to a discreet divorce – we settled for 'irreconcilable lifestyles' as a cause for separation. After all, I can well understand her shock at the discovery. Owning eclectic devices would have been acceptable although clearly unbecoming; however, the sight of some of the bagpipe pictures that adorned several seedies really was too much for her.

How I came to marry Minister Granger? Ah, well, you see, she knows several ways to obtain new seedies, and promised to contribute steadily to my seedy collection until death do us part. She doesn't even object to my keeping a seedy machine in our bedroom either, as long as it's quiet when she's there. This is no problem for me, mind you… she makes most interesting sounds herself when I–

Manipulated me into supporting her electoral campaign? Now don't be ridiculous. What could have given you this idea? Purebloods aren't manipulated into anything! We would never stoop so low.

We do have certain standards to maintain, you know.

A/N: This plot bunny belongs to JustAnotherGirl, who generously gave it for adoption.

No disrespect is meant to JKR, to What'shisname who made the HP films, nor to anyone else indeed. No Purebloods were harmed to write this story – though English grammar and spelling may have suffered. A bit. Do leave a comment to report any abuse.


End file.
